Sanura
by NovaSinopa
Summary: Sanura was an Egyptian Princess, sister of Nefetiri, daughter to Pharaoh Seti I. She placed the curse on Imotep after her father's death left her and the kingdom in devastation, tearing apart the two sisters lives. 1000's of years later Charlotte O'Connell is thrown into an adventure to Hamunaptra where she will not only discover her ancient past life but also a medji. Ardeth/OC
1. Chapter 1

The eye of Ra rose high and steady in the form of an Egyptian sun, watching all the land laid before him. Beauty etched into the very landscape, the desert, his desert the most beautiful landmark of all. Swirling flurries of golden sand dusted the cliff faces like golden icing sugar, piling delicately on to the ever moving dunes. He was proud and happy with the scene, little troubled with the people within it. Yet upon the evershifting canvas he so admired a battle raged.

French legionnaires, tired and worn, lay scattered behind the protection of a ruin. It was ancient and cracked with age, the painfully crafted details worn to a sand coloured spattering of fallen stones and crumbling arches. In front of them rode a seething mass of scimitars. Horses foaming as hooves sunk against the sand, men screaming with deaths wail as they charged the foreign soldiers.

One man looked into the deathly oncoming torrent and he was not afraid. He stared at the raging torrent of warriors and he didn't fear his death. No he did not fear his death but he had to live. He had to liver for her, his sister. They were closer than siblings could ever be seen to be, if he should die here this day this hour she would be left alone. A woman lost in the streets of Cairo. She had no money to speak of, neither of them did and the money they did have was stolen, as were most of their possessions. If he died in this forsaken tomb then she would fade away into the backdrop of Cairo life. He dreaded to think what would await her there.

Steadying himself as the Bedouin riders neared, he checked his gun running his hand along the handle admiring the smoothness, not long now. Around him torrents of men ran to their post, the sweet smell of fear rolling of them in waves. He didn't blame them. Captain Allonette Dumoir turned tail and ran, even abandoning his sword. _Coward_. He would have never trusted that man with his dog let alone to lead a small battalion into a battle with the natives. It had been just his luck that this jumped up arse would be his commanding officer. Who ever thought he was Captain material needed to be shot. Put down permanently.

"I guess you just got promoted" Beni wheezed, another man not to be trusted but was handy to have on your side. A weasel able to steal anything worth his fancy and acquire useful information but one who was quick to back stab you. But he was right, for once, he was in charge now. He glanced around him, so many young men who would die in this battle and truly he would feel nothing for them. Charlie had always called him a heartfelt rock as a joke but he could relate to the poor rock. Didn't feel nothing come rain or shine, hard and tough. He did what he could to survive, to get by. There was no denying that emotions just got in the way. These men that kneeled shaking in the sand, they had his respect, nothing more than that. Getting attached only meant getting hurt. Every one ended up dying at some point. Their mother for example, everyone loved her, best mum in the world but then she died Charlie hadn't spoken for 2 weeks and they had stayed locked up in their room for much longer. He watched his sister cry herself to sleep every night in his arms and he wait moments later when she would inevitably scream. She had seen her die, he hadn't, Charlie had watched as her mother committed suicide. She had been unable to stop her, she had been tormented by that and sometimes still was. Ten seconds faster, a little louder. She had never gotten over it. Neither had their father. Before their mothers death he had been brilliant. The loving, caring, doting father. Never a harsh word fell past his lips; and she had been daddy's little girl, his little princess. But then there were the doubts, he blamed Charlie saying _she had always wanted mother dead_ or _that little bitch killed her, murderer_. He vented his frustration buy hitting her and beating her till she bled, he got the same. They had to fight their way out. Charlie limp in his arms with bruises blossoming over her cheeks. Every mark, every wimper she had made burned into his mind, scorching his retinas till it was that he saw. It was only them now, no family, no friends. Two children lost in the night. Life hadn't been easy, not that they had expected sunshine and rainbows, fighting had become routine. Well for him. Being a man he'd tried to spare her that, even if he couldn't spare her the feeling of desperate hunger or longing for a family that had broken apart before their eyes. They were fighters though, never giving up, taking down any enemy in their path. Right now, Bedouin warriors and he planned on coming out of it alive.

He scoffed at the oncoming enemy, good luck to any that comes up against him. Shouting for the legionnaires to ready themselves he shifted into a better position. "steady...steady...steady" _wait till the perfect time Rick, wait till they're up close_ "FIRE".

Guns discharged all around him covering the makeshift battlements in a light dusting of smoke. Horses from the oncoming rabble fell, toppling their riders and crushing others. Perfect, that's around 100 gone at least. Every man for himself now. He fired the rifle once more before abandoning it on the ground and, for want of a better word, ran like fuck. _Quickest way to get somewhere is in a straight line, well that's just great!_ He jumped over a fallen column and ripped out his pistols. Firing rapidly he slowly backed up. Five bullets in each gun, aim with purpose, oh fuck this! I'll shoot what I want to.

Backing up he watched the warriors take down some good men with their scimitars. _Shit_. Ran out of bullets, time to go! He madly dashed across the inner workings of the ruins to the entrance they had found earlier, spotting Beni ahead of him looking scared and confused. _Poor bastard_. "Run Beni RUN!" he screamed, he owed Beni. Damn weasle had saved his life a time or two.

Beni was ahead of him, no doubt his speed helped him with run ins with the law as well, and quickly made it to the open stone doorway. He darted inside like a fox._ No, that little piece of shite. _"Don't you close that door, DON'T YOU CLOSE THAT DOOR!" Too late, _damn him. _Rick turned around and kept running, swiping a pistol from the ground and fireing randomly. He could hear horses, six of them...coming his way. He made a detour and they followed. _God_ _dammit_. Guns were cocking, no time to go round. He jumped a fallen pillar using the base as a spring board. Unfortunately dropping the gun. _Bastard_. He reached for the gun but pulled his hand back as the sand was showered with bullets, better leave it then. Was a nice gun too. He launched himself up off the floor and ran through a stone arch, he hadn't seen this part of the lost city when he made his rounds earlier. Oh well no time for sight seeing.

The horses and their respective riders were closing in the gap, guess four legs are better than two. As Rick rounded the next corner he knew almost immediately that he was going to have to give up. Stopping in front of a blackened statue eroded by sand he turned and faced them. He would die facing the enemy, he would not die a coward at least Charlotte would have that. Jeeze he hadn't called her Charlotte since they were kids, _please forgive me Charlotte, please_. He closed his eyes waiting for the pain, horses neighing frantically, men calling out in their Arabic tongue...then silence. Pure silence, huh, was he dead? Slowly and cautiously he opened one eye...nothing but ruins, then the next eye. Well that's weird but hey no complaints in this department. Maybe the statue scared them off.

Tuning in shock of his lucky escape Rick looked up at the statue. _Some sort of jackal guy...did I just hear jackals barking? Must be going loopy._ That was weird, very weird. Rick glanced up to the face of the statue, narrowing his eyes a little against the glare of the sun. _Hum...Woah what the fuck, hey where's all this sand coming from, what the hell._ Rick stumbled out of the small sand storm he had just experienced. He was confused, scared and unnerved. It seemed impossible for all that sand to just, well, just rise off the ground like that. Never had he seen anything like it.

He stumbled away looking over his shoulder and saw a face, a face made out of the sand, as if screaming. He swore he could hear a screaming too. Now he was scared.

He ran as fast as he could out of that place, stopping only to get some food and water, as much as he could carry. Then he ran out into the expanse of the desert. He was afraid of what could lay underneath the sand, whatever it was it must be evil...or supernatural. What was he thinking, supernatural, ha he was turning into some superstitious git. Next thing you know he'd be rambling about some undead mummy coming to haunt everyone.

He was certain that he could feel eyes watching him, digging into the back of his head like searing needles of red hot fire. Slowly turning around and dreading what could be watching him, Rick scanned the horizon. Five men all clad in black sat on their horses staring at him from atop the desert cliff. Heavily clad with weapons, they were staring straight at him. A single shot could still kill him at this distance so he turned and ran, listening attentively till he had managed to hide behind a dune. That was strange. Well here goes on getting home...

~oOo~

**_Late afternoon _**

He had been walking all day, sand was in places where he had no intention of looking under this killer sun. The sky was crystal clear and deep blue, no forgiving clouds in sight. He was low on water, had no fuel for the night and no food. If this damn sun didn't kill him the freezing night would. No protection except the thin shirt, torn jacket, tight cotton pants and the blistering leather boots he wore.

Why did he agree to going to that city, the city of the dead, Hamunaptra. Oh yes he remembered now, he would of be killed otherwise. A whole battalion of rugged French soldiers against one man, even he couldn't have matched those odds. Now all those men were dead and he survived, the only one who didn't want to go searching for treasure. How quaint.

The sun was setting now and a cold chill was settling over the sand, here goes nothing. All he had to do was keep moving, keep the blood pumping and muscles working. It couldn't be that far to Cairo or some other small desert town. Even Bedouins or desert raiders. He strained his ears...no, nothing. A sudden chill was setting in now as the sun said her last goodbyes, leaving him to the mercy of her sister the moon. Shivering he pulled his ruined jacket closer around him, crossing his arms to keep it in tight. Stomping his feet as he moved, keeping his leg muscles warm. Head down closer to his body heat. _Shit was it cold, so cold, so very very cold. Wait...what was that?_ He could of sworn that was a horses braying carried by the wind, cautiousness over came curiosity as he pulled out his good pistol that he had recovered from Hamunaptra's ruins after the fight. Holding it outstretched he stopped moving.

"Boo!" He spun round and hit the trigger, it clicked empty. Before him was a silver horse, a singular colour and extremely rare in an Arabian. He knew that horse.

"Charlie? What are you doing out here?" he said stepping back and looking more closely at the rider. She was obviously feminine, even under all the robes that covered her body. Strands of long mahogany hair escaped her hood and blew lightly in the desert wind. A black piece of cloth covered her nose and mouth and her chocolate brown eyes shone out in the dark. He could see a scimitar protruding from her robes, golden hilted, he wondered who she had stolen that off. Then he could also tell by the way the material was situated that she had a couple of belts on holding, most likely, her favourite guns and her fighting daggers. That was his sister alright.

"You weren't going to shoot me Rick were you? Because that would be bloody unfortunate considering I came all this way to fucking find you!" she said in a deathly calm voice, yes defiantly his sister alright, it sent shivers of dread up his spine.

"Umm oops" He put in with a clown like smile plastered on his face. Sometimes he really regretted ever opening his mouth. She had always said it would get him into trouble someday, well here he was in the mouth of the lion.

"Very, well at least I've found you now." She dismounted the horse and took of the packs it carried. She set them down a few feet away in a clear piece of ground and gestured for his help. He quickly complied spotting the tent as he came over. That tent held a lot of memories; it was the same tent they had slept in for weeks after they had run away from home. The same one that they knew how to put up in the pitch dark from their time in the American mountains. The one they had carried across the ocean as they stowed away in a boat to Egypt where they would truly be free and here they were now. He unzipped the bag tipping the contents onto the sand glowed palely in the dark. It looked like new, as always.

While he set about doing the tent, his sister was lighting a fire. Her eyes never leaving his figure. She hadn't seen him for 6 months, the longest time they had ever been apart and she had missed him greatly. She flinched as the match she lit burnt her fingers but didn't drop it as she lit the fire. He was safe now, well they were both together anyways, and he wasn't leaving any time soon.

Charlie moved the pot over the fire and he watched, he'd finished the tent moments ago and was now securing the horse, not that it would ever run away. Charlotte had a thing with animals. A few days and they trusted her like they known her for years. It had been unnerving to begin with. Unnatural really, although it fitted her like a part of her soul. He had been so freaked when a sparrow had delivered a letter to him one morning, she'd found it hilarious. He guessed it was one of the many things that made her who she was and he loved her for it.

He pulled himself up and sat by her side, her face in the firelight glistened. She was crying. "God Rick, I'd thought I'd lost you. You...you don't know what it was like. For months I've been trying to get any information on where you had gotten too but there was nothing. Your commander came back this morning and told me you'd probably been k...k...killed by some Bedouin warrior. Or...or by the desert sun, or something. I've been riding round this damn desert since this morning when...when he told me. I've been so worried and was praying you'd be f...f...fine, but it was there at the back of my mind nagging me what if...what if you had been..." She broke down into sudden tears and he held her. He'd never thought that it would have this effect on her. Maybe if he had he would never of gone in the first place. Here she was so vulnerable and to him it was his fault. Words wouldn't help so he just held her till she was done crying. Rocking her back and forth like he did when they were children. She looked up at him and he smiled, earning one from her in response. Words weren't needed, they had a mutual agreement that whenever one of them broke down the other would be therefore them no questions asked. They had both broken down their fair share of times, him maybe more so. He remember the first time he had killed someone, it had tormented him for days on afterwards and she had always been there rocking him to sleep.

She turned away and continued to stir their food, soup. It was boiling merrily when she poured it into the deep bowls that she carried. It was still steaming when she handed it to him. He spooned a great deal in and nearly dropped the bowl.

"You do realise, right, that thing that come straight off a fire tend to be a smidgeon hot don't you?" She smirked at him, he scowled in reply earning a hearty laugh that lit up her face. "Dumb arse" she giggled. They went on throwing mindless sibling banter long into the night and by six the next morning were gone without a trace back to their home in Cairo.

**Leave me a review and let me know how you like it.**


	2. Chapter 2

Ardeth Bay watched as the fight began, his heart ached for those who would die here today but he could spare no mercy, the secret needed to be protected, no one could survive. Gun shots pricked the air sending a line of curling white smoke up from the battlements, nearly a hundred warriors fell but it hardly made an imprint of their vast numbers. He watched, along with a few from the council and his most trusted warriors, as the large dust cloud, kicked up by the horse's hooves, entered the sacred ruins of Hamunaptra. They scoured the city clean, cutting down man after man. The French legionnaires no match for the curved scimitars and the horses speed. The screams hit the air like knives, but he stayed emotionless. Inside he was fighting his own eternal battle, was it right to kill so many, need they all die so horrifically? It was a needed precaution, no one could know what was hidden in the cities depths, no one could release this monster on the world. He, as always, questioned his ancestors actions in cursing this creature so causing their future descendants to be curse in turn to continuously watch over the dead city in fear of the monster buried within.

Looking on at the devastation laid bare before him, he suppressed a sigh. It had been a long week. Eyes straying up to his hawk and companion Horus he wished it had never come to this. Months ago he'd been free from this pressure. The dregs of childhood leaking away as a bot became a man. No stresses, no worries. It had been easy back then, back when he didn't have the concil breathing down his neck, to pretend that being cheif meant something. That is was more than mindless killing. As a child he had pictured himself as a warrior. Respected, feared and loved. A man his family could be proud of as he rode into battle with his scimitar raised high in the desert sun. But it wasn't like that at all. He'd decived himself into thinking it was than just sitting there watching as others, less important others, died in his place. His heart longed to be down there, fighting beside those who would lay their lives down for a cause that their ancestors had handed them.

Instead he sat like a gargoyle on the cliff watching the blood shed below.

The battle had not lasted long, those still standing quickly fled the ruins, they had no desire to be there. He stayed watchful. They had to be certain no one had survived. A broken man stumbled away from the ruins. How unlucky for him to have watched his brother be cut down like hay. His feet scuffed against the bloodied sand but immediately stopped and straightened, tuning to see them on the ridge.

"Should we kill him?" Ardeth watched as the man turned and tripped away from them, loathing the death that he had already caused he decided against ending this man's life under his own whims.

"No, the desert will kill him." With finality Ardeth turned his horse, Zameel, away from the hill top. The bells Bint-tel-nil, his sister, had woven into the halter sang with Zameels every movement. Sand swirled around both horse and riders as they rode off into the desert, the council following behind with speculative glances. Let them speculate and titter about his ineptitude, he had more important things to worry about.

As they sped down the slope of the cliff he called to one of his brothers. "Take the concil back to the encampment, there is something I must do."

He jerked the reins tightly, verring away from the others in a cloud of dusty sand. They would dislike not knowing what he was up to. Old men who thought too highly of themselves as they sat and watched the youth die in battles they had instigated. They were certainly not fans of a young chief who had designs of his own.

_**12 hours later**_

Ardeth had been riding throughout the night. Zameels flanks shivered with exertion underneath him, the bells on his harness chiming, reminicant of the high pitches of childhood laughter. As the biting chill of night settled heavily on the air a whinny carried faintly from behind the approaching due. It was follwed by a barely audible hushing.

Dismouting with a practiced leap, his landing cushioned by the windswept sand, Ardeth crept towards the ridge. He was one with the darkness, moving as little more than a shadow. Zameel pawed a the ground where he had been left and Ardeth glanced back at his companion. With a dark glare she shook his head at the horse whoes head bowed with gilt.

Despite how muched he loved his friend, he was easily the most impatient beast he had yet to meet.

With another warning glare he continues to the ridge, body pressed against the warmth of the sand.

What he saw left him shocked. There was a woman, her figure moving with a leathal grace in front of the dying embers of what must once have been a fire. He could only see her silhouette but he had a clear view of the beautiful stallion. Its pelt reflected the firey orange of the daying embers, but as its head shifted he caught a gleam of silver. The horse was an obvious Arabian, as the muscles trembled they gave away its thourabred origins.

He remained stationary, watching as the woman neared the firelight. Her features remained indisctint as she glanced out into the blackness. Strands of hair whiping about her form. He shifted, sand cascading down from the dunes crest. In mere seconds the stallions eyes met his own. Like below zero water he froze, muscles stiffening like drying concrete. Stallion and man stared across the sand. As their eyes connected the stallion let out a snorting breath before turning back to its mistress. Taking the oportunity he slid back down the ridge. Grabbing the reins of Zameel, he faded into the desert.

**_3 weeks later _**

It had been three weeks exactly since both Rick and Charlie had returned from the desert and it had been two weeks, six days since Rick had been chucked into Cairo prison, and it had been two weeks, four days since Charlie had found out and she was pissed, no livid, wait...murderous.

It had hardly been a day and Rick, the stupid bastard that he was, got thrown into jail for fighting in a brawl among, apparently, other numerous crimes that the warden had conveniently forgotten about when Charlie had the audacity to actually ask. She had been trying her best to buy him out but the fat-lazy-ass-good-for-fuck-all warden was having none of it. Angrily she kicked the wall, _fuck_, unfortunately she forgot that were not soft and now she had the throbbing foot to prove it. Cursing wildly she stormed out into the busy streets of Cairo.

There was always a market on, every day, the streets constantly plagued by carts, animals, and people all pushing a shoving their way to reach their own destinations. Air laden with incense, the aroma of Eish Masri, a type of hearty Egyptian bread, Samak mashwy, grilled fish, and her personal favourite Mahshi waraa enab which was a concoction of rice with sauteed ground beef seasoned with Egyptian spices stuffed in a cooked grape vine leaf, she bought one. Nimbly she weaved her way through the crowd in the direction of Cairo prison. If she couldn't get Rick out through bargaining then she would break him out, there was no way in hell or heaven that she would lose her best friend and only family member.

She stopped at a small alcove, reaching in she pulled out the tool she would need. It was a system that she and Rick had developed. Cairo was a large city and it would be a waste of effort to continuously return to their home when they wanted something, not to mention you don't want to lead those with ill intentions to your door. By concealing objects in particular places it allowed them to move throughout the whole city and it reassured Rick that if she got in trouble, because they hid guns and ammunition in these places as well, she'd always have something to defend herself with. She'd scoffed at that, like she didn't carry enough weapons around with her at his request.

Out of habit she studied the people around her. An old lady selling a soup, she had three children, as the western tourists stopped to look at her produce the children robbed them. A shifty looking man who was selling rip off jewellery, a drunken rogue picking food of the street hardly fit for a rat. Tourists oblivious to their missing goods enjoying the 'life and liveliness' of Cairo city. She laughed quietly when a young boy bumped into one knocking him to the ground and while he helped him up the boys sister robbed the man. That's what she and Rick used to do, they called it double teaming; they'd been so young back then, too young really for what they did.

Shaking the onslaught of memories from her head she continued on determined that Rick would make it out of that hell hole.

~oOo~

Heavy booted footsteps moved closer to his cell, he'd been in here for over two weeks, when he found that rat who started that brawl he'd punch in square between the eyes. Charlie must of been worried sick, that or she was beyond pissed at him. It wasn't his fault, not really. Okay he was drunk, and sure he'd decided to play cards, and alright he'd cheated, and okay he'd acctually thrown the first punch the fight but what can he say, he was only looking for a good time after the hell he'd been through, surely he'd earn't it.

The footsteps stopped outside his door.

"Hello boys missed me already." He winced as they roughly grabbed him chucking him into the outside enclosure of the cell.

"What, what is this man in for?" Ooo goodie visitors.

"He'd said he was looking for a good time." The guards shoved him roughly again.

"Who's the broad?" He'd never seen these two people in his life, so he asked the obvious question. Apparently, if the sharp intake of breath and the standoffish retort, she'd taken offense. Not his fault.

"Actually this is my sister."

"Not a total loss then."

"I beg your pardon?" she sounded offended...ha!

The warden interrupted whatever she was about to retort. "I'll be back in a moment!"

Calming down slightly Evelyn moved closer to the cell, knowing that Jonathan will only muck about, unsure of how to start the convocation she stammered. "We...um...we found your puzzle box and we've come to ask you about it."

_No they haven't, they've come to ask about Hamunaptra. _He thinks to himself. "No"

"No" Evelyn questions, shock and disappointment evident on her face.

"No...you've come to ask me about Hamunaptra." Rick watches in amusement as brother and sister look around in fear that anyone heard him, they unconsciously remind him of his own sister who was quietly sneaking in through the gate of the prison...what?!

"How do you know the box pertains to Hamunaptra?"

"Because that's where I was when I found it!" He's not really involved in the convocation but instead watching his sister sneak past the guards, Oh he was going to kill her when they got home, that's if she didn't kill him first, of course.

"How do we know that's not a load of pig swallow?" Losing sight of Charlie Rick turns to look at the man, he was sure he'd seen him somewhere before, he was certain of it.

"Do I know you?" Rick arrows his eyes, searching this man's face.

"Um...well you see...I...I just have one of those faces—." Launching his fist out he connected the dots, or rather flesh. Rick did recognise him, the man who'd stolen from him. Well mission accomplished—_OW. _Rick cursed under his breath as his forehead connected with the unforgiving metal bars, he turned slightly glaring at the guard.

"You were actually at Hamunaptra?" There was something about the way that she completely ignored her brother, stepping over his unconscious body that reminded him of Charlie, this girl had spunk, that was for sure.

Smiling slightly at her boldness he replied. "Yeah I was there."

"You swear?"

"Every damn day." Jesus Charlie's sarcasm was really wearing off on him.

"No that's not what I mean—"

"I know what you mean. I was there, alright, Seti's place. City of the dead."

She moved closer. "Could you...could you tell me how to get there?"

Charlie was going to kill him for this, but then again he was probably dead already. "You really want to know?" He said drawing her closer.

"Yes!" She was too eager, he motioned her closer till she was inches away from him. Forcefully grabbing her chin he kissed her full on the mouth, she wasn't bad.

"Then get me the hell out of here!" The guards grabbed his upper arms dragging him out of the cell. "Do it lady." The door closed. Rick expected to end up back in his own cell but when they continued to drag him towards the courtyard he started to get a bit nervous. "Uh lads the cells back that way?" He said unsure of himself.

"You're not going to the cell, you're going to take a one way trip to hell where you belong." One word...SHIT!

~oOo~

**_Same day, same place_**

Oh he was dead, a goner, and she was going to enjoy every moment of killing him. Charlie was shocked that he'd do such a thing. She moved closer to the woman and the warden.

"Where are they taking him?"

"To be hanged, it seems he had a very good time."


	3. Chapter 3

Charlotte was livid. How could Rick disregard his life so stupidly. How could he get caught? For years they'd grown up on the streets, orphans that were nothing more than dirt on the shoes of others. Well at least that's what was shouted at them. They had learnt the hard way to be stealthy, to be quick and have multiple escape routes and despite the fact that all these things had been beaten into them he'd still gotten caught. In a brothel no less. Damn him. Damn him, damn him, damn him.

Quietly she flittered through the shadows, following the progress of Rick and his guards. Obviously, things weren't quite going according to her plan and she wasn't happy about it. All the stress was starting to make her head pound and she added that to her list of 'things to shout at Rick about', after he'd been rescued of course.

If only she'd known that this would have been the outcome of her visit she would have been a little more prepared. She had a small pistol haltered against her thigh, despite preferring swords to the brutality of guns, and her thin bladed scimitar which she was very proud to have stolen off a burly looking man dressed in black. The blade was well made and perfectly balanced for her, it was quite possibly one of her most prised possessions and she guarded it with her life just as it did hers.

Move carefully she hid her footsteps in the din of the celebratory screeches at a hanging. In a prison this life demeaning she supposed it was the only entertainment these failed criminals would get. In reality she should have probably felt a kinship with those locked away within these wall. She was, after all, what you could call a criminal herself. But she didn't get caught. Well no strictly true, she'd been caught once or twice, but always she managed to slip away like a serval. Deadly but beautiful predator, rarely seen but always noticed. Despite the direness of the situation she chuckled under her breath. If Rick got wind of her minds comparison he'd never let her live it down...well if he didn't hang that was.

She was entirely aware that in her mind she was already desensitising herself to the situation and she hated it. It meant that she didn't truly believe she could save him, and the reality of the situation was she probably couldn't. The best thing that would come out of this was she died having killed that fat warden. A savage grin rippled across her features as she imagined chocking the life out of the repulsive man. Of course she'd probably just have to shoot him, but a girl could dream.

The death caravan, made up of a collection of guards and Rick arrived at the hangmans platform, their shadow following closely behind. Charlotte scanned the area, it was open and there was thousands of eyes trained on the small arena. She kept to the shadowed alcove, pressing her body so deeply into the brickwork that she could feel the shoddiness pressing against the skin of her back. It truly was a wonder that this thing hadn't toppled to the ground yet.

Luck was seemingly on her side as the majority of eyes were focused on the movement at the centre of the clearing and those that weren't wouldn't have been able to convince the guards that a woman was slinking about in the shadows.

Keen eyes narrowed on their prey. The fat warden remained oblivious to his sudden danger as he waddled his way up the steps to his 'box seat'. Behind him, looking as disgusted as any woman would in that mans presence followed the Carnahan woman. It was now or never, darting through the shadows, Charlotte snuck up that stair behind them. Her treads were faint and barely perceptible. She was like a ghost.

By the time she'd positioned herself behind the wardens chair, the man and Carnahan woman were in deep discussion.

"I would give you one hundred pounds to spare his life." Charlotte quirked a brow in the woman's direction. Obviously her brother had made some sort of impression.

"I would pay one hundred pounds just to see him hang." A hiss of air escaped her mouth, she sounded like a deadly Egyptian asp. Both the warden and Carnahan jumped, craning their necks to search of that they were certain were snakes, or a least one. Charlotte shrunk into the shadows, pressing her self into the wall until she felt one with the shoddy brickwork. No doubt the marks that were forming against her skin would stay present longer than it took her to escape this hell hole.

The shout of his men drew the attention of the warden back to the pre-hanging set up. The Carnahan woman on the other hand remained staring into the darkened shadows. There was no chance the woman had seen her, but none the less she seemed determined that there was something hiding in the shadows. Carnahan turned back and Charlie let out a silent breath.

"Two, two hundred pounds."

As the two in front of her returned to their argument, Charlotte to the chance to peek at Rick from her new heightened position. He was standing, forlorn, having seemingly already accepted his fate. The noose was strung about his neck like a necklace, a necklace of death. If she hadn't already of been heard Charlotte would have left out a half sob, but as it was she could afford to make anymore noises. Their suspicion was already raised, any more suspicious sounds and the guards would be upon them faster than you could yell-

"Three hundred pounds."

Not quite what she was going for but all the same, faster than that she'd probably be hanging next to him.

One of Ricks guards grasped the lever for the trap door.

"Five hundred pounds!"

Charlotte's eyes had been darting between the two people in front of her. She saw the warden lay a greasy pulpous hand on the Carnahan woman's leg and cringed with her in disgust.

"And what else?"

In truth Charlotte felt like blaming Carnahan on what happened next. Repulsed she slapped away the mans hand and as a consequence the rope snapped taught as Rick dropped through the trap door.

"NO!" Two female voices shouted clearly over the roaring cheers. Charlotte, launched herself towards the edge of the wardens box, ignoring his shout of outrage as in her hast she tumbled him to the floor.

"God Rick!" Her voice caught in her throat, he wasn't dead. He wasn't dead and he was staring into her eyes, pleading as his body jerked against the rope. Hell hath no fury such as a woman scorned, and Charlotte had been more then scorned. She'd been wronged, wrong deep in her soul. Her body was almost physically rippling with power as she turned to face the Warden who'd scrambled towards the wall.

"His neck did not break! Good! Now we watch him strangle to death."

Growling she grasped the fat where she assumed his neck was and pinned him against the wall.

Next to her the Carnahan woman had gasped in surprise but now seemed to be taking the opportunity for more bargaining.

"He knows the location to Hamunaptra."

Spitting the Warden struggled to face the Carnahan woman. "You lie." It came out in a strangled choked with plenty of spittle flying in all directions. It was so digusting that Charlie almost contemplated dropping him.

"I would never."

"Are you saying this filthy godless son of a pig..." She tightened he grip slightly, digger her nails into the sweat soaked skin, "...urck!...". A small hand pressed into her arm. It was the Carnahan woman, she gave a quick glance that said 'this is the only way to save him'. Grumbling under her breath Charlotte loosened her gip slightly. "...You are telling me he knows the way to the City of the Dead."

"Yes, if you cut him down I we will give you...ten percent."

"Fifty."

"Twenty."

"Forty."

This was taking too long, Rick was running out of time.

"Thirty."

Her grip tightened.

"Twenty five."

The Carnahan woman jumped excitedly. "Done."

Sensing that they'd won Charlotte dropped the warden like a rancid piece a meat, her lip curled with disgust as she wiped her hand against her trousers. Vile man.

There was some speedily shouted Arabic and Rick dropped to the floor gasping for breath. The deal, having been sealed by Ricks life, over the man turned his weasel eyes on her.

"Who the hell do you think you are woman. You should be whipped for your insolence."

Her witty come back of 'I'd like to see you try' was cut to the quick by the Carnahan woman.

"She'd my sister, she'd a bit...ummm...temperamental."

Charlotte tried not to look affronted by the woman's save and instead, with little motivation, morphed her featured into an sinister smile. "Anyway, docks at high noon, that's when we'll leave. Come on sister, lets go get our guide."

Allowing herself to be dragged away by the Carnahan woman she sent, what could be viewed as, childish glares back at the wardens fat folded form.

"Thank god that is over. I'm Evie and I'm going to assume it was your brother down there." The woman's voice, Evie, was light and airy and lilted with a British accent. Charlie hadn't noticed with the stress of the former situation but she had the demure pretty look going for her. But there was an obvious undercurrent of steel running through her veins. Possibly a woman she could get to like.

"Charlotte O'Connell." She stuck out her hand, the warden free one. Her other hand was still slippery with, well she wasn't entirely sure and in reality she didn't want to know. "Yeah unfortunately for him, he's my brother."

By this time the two women had reached the bottom of the stairs. Waiting was the other Carnahan. "This is unfortunately my brother, Jonathan."

Jonathan perked up as she approached and tried to smooth out his clothes. "Its an absolute pleas-"

"Jonathan this is Charlotte O'Connell." Suddenly his demeanour changed to that of a scatty cat. He eyed her warily.

"You're not going to punch me are you?" Charlotte quirked a brow.

"Why would I punch you?"

"Oh no reason, come on Evie, lets get out of here." Jonathan started dragging his sister away as the guards stared suspiciously in their direction.

"Remember, the docks...high noon!" Charlie waved the woman off in affirmation she'd heard her.

Now all she had to do was find her own brother.

~oOo~

**So I'm coming back to this story. I want to apologise for the extreme amount of delay but I needed a break from writing due to some family issues. This chapter is a bit of a short one to help me get back into the writing. I hope you like it none the less. **


	4. Chapter 4

Charlotte rubbed her hand against the cotton of her trousers. It was smarting slightly from where she'd taken her emotionally high frustrations out on her brother. Sure enough Rick, a few steps ahead of her, was rubbing his cheek tenderly.

_Well that's what you get for almost getting yourself killed. _

Truly she felt a little bit bad about it, he had almost been choked to death and it was pure luck that his neck hadn't snapped when he'd dropped. But then he'd never have been in that situation if he'd just listened to her.

Upon dragging his sorry arse from the desert, after she'd spent hours searching for him in the desolate vast expanse, getting sand in places it she still hadn't managed to remove it from. What did good ole Rick go an do? It hadn't even been a day and he'd gotten himself into trouble, and in a brothel no less. That hardly bared thinking about. Charlie, by no means, was innocent. Innocence was ripped from you as soon as you could run on the streets of Cairo. Some of the things, the acts, she'd seen on sneaking through the dirty back alleys of the streets...one could never forget. But aside from that she still had restraint, she wouldn't go 'looking for a good time' as soon as she got back to a worried sibling who'd almost thought she'd been lost in the shifting sands of the desert.

She huffed a sigh as she pulled her pack more firmly onto her shoulder only to have if snuffled to a perilous position by her companion. Ameer. Ameer was the silver pelted stallion she'd rescued as a colt. A teenaged Charlotte at odd with the world, rebellious of her lowly position of life, hating all who thought themselves better. Her entire life she'd been trodden on by 'the upper class' and almost everyone was upper class compared to her. Young brown eyes, glazed by a layer of hate landed on the staving colt being whipped into submission by its owner. Wild panicked eyes connected briefly with her own as the terrified colt begged wordlessly for a saviour, a saviour it had no knowing was in the body of a young girl.

It was not to be borne. There was a kinship between her and this creature, she felt it deep within her soul. She'd suffered through beatings, suffered through heartless acts but she still had family. This young creature had nothing, its movements as frantic as one with nothing to lose. She had to save it, besides stealing an Arabian colt would just be another strike in her rebelliousness.

Savagely grinning in anticipation she weaved her way to the edges of the crowed, her eyes kept bowed down but never losing sight of her aim in the peripherals. A distraction is what she needed. Finally at the edge she scooted her slim body behind one of the stalls, the owner was bantering a price with a less than gullible tourist. She noted the man was quite obviously British, but the woman with him was not. Perhaps not a tourist anymore then.

The pain braying was so clear to her and it pierced her ear drums. She needed to hurry up. Eyes hooded with the severity of her self assigned mission she scanned the stall, very briefly they glided over a girl child, probably the same age as herself, or at least close to it. There was a strange smattering of exoticness in her otherwise European appearance...hummm she'd do.

Bracing her arms against the wall behind her she spied her escape route and then kicked out the leg of the stall, already sprinting as the trinkets went scattering into the street. Quickly she lost herself in the crowd as they gathered about the shouting couple, child and stall vendor. "Evie would never do such a thing, it its hardly her fault you picked a shoddily made stall...don't you dare...". Their argument faded into the background as he mind focused.

Charlotte was painfully aware she was down a blade, the rope, although frayed, was of good quality and it would take precious time to undo the knot. There was not telling how long the argument would keep the street distracted, but former experienced warned her that time was indeed on the short end. As she weaved towards her target she allowed herself to become aware of those about her. The majority were your average tourist, great for pickpocketing money, but less so for weapons. The Arabs usually had dirty blades hidden but they were slippery customers at the best of times, pickpocketing them was usually a two man business, then of course there were the guards but that was pretty much asking for trouble. Grimly she grinned at an unbidden thought that came to mind, she could try gnaw the rope off like the man in the film she and Rick had snuck into. It was be an amusing sight to say the least but a pretty silly idea.

However, lady luck seemed to be smiling on her, despite the fact she was no lady. There was a man, an Arab, swathed in black clocks so thick it was a wonder to her how he could even breath in the heat let alone stand. His eyes seemed wary, watchful in a way that sent chilled shivered running down her spin, it was untested thieving ground. Charlotte had seen these men from time to time, always dressed in black, they commanded the right of way. Even tourist who were so oblivious to the ways and beliefs of those around them parted for the black swaddled men. Other thieves avoided them, no one wanted to test the waters when losing a hand was on the line. Rumour had it that they beheaded thieves, but then rumour also had it that they branded them...she'd never held out on rumours anyway. She lived by experience, and she was about to gain some.

Even if she hadn't had to squint as the glint of a scimitar glared defiantly into her eyes she would have known he carried some sort of weapon. No one was respected in the streets unless they carried one, and even more so if they weren't afraid to use it. The query now was how was she going to...'acquire' it? There was no time for elaborate plans, the poor colt looked ready to collapse on his shaking stilts, luckily its owner or more accurately torturer was distracted by the still heated argument.

Thievery 101 then, the ole bump and grab with a side of run for your life. It was easily the most played trick in the book, easily spotted when you know what your looking for...if your looking. But if something works then why ignore the results. The man was much bigger than her, someone she should easily be intimidated by, but his size only meant she'd have to shove him harder.

_Well no time like the present._

Crocodile tears gathered as she sprinted, a fearful look dropped like a curtain on her face, she'd could probably become one of those actors if she'd had an education and what not. Bracing herself for impact she collided with the man sending them both sprawling to the ground, en route she pilfered his scimitar, concealing it in her baggy shirt.

"Afuan la dajaja." Broken Arabic spewed from her mouth and she was past the point of caring what she actually said, which later she found out to be 'sorry no chicken' no wonder he'd given her that look. Either way she now had what she wanted and she pulled herself up and sprinted to rescue the colt. The scimitar was deadly sharp and cut through the rope like it wasn't even their, gentle she grasped the remain length and pulled the trembling creature into a side alley and back towards home.

Rick had been none to pleased at her antics or the extra mouth they had to feed, of she remembered corrected she'd been lecture about bringing strays home, or at least something to that extent. But it was irrelevant anyhow, she'd promised that she'd take care of the colt herself and she had and still did so. He'd been named Ameer, prince, and he certainly acted the part, spoilt creature.

Coming back from her memories she batted away his snuffling nose. "Ameer stop it, we're almost there you pesky horse."

Rick had strode ahead and was now talking to the Evelyn woman and her brother. Hamunaptra a myth seething in rumours, she scoffed she never did hold much by rumours. Sighing, resigned to her fate to cross the desert with her brother an their new...companions she tugged Ameer forward.

"Come on then, might as well get this over with." Happily she'd avoided the warden, grotesque human that he was and she casually made her way onto the ship, Ameer following with what one would assume was obedience. It was not though, Ameer was not a flightily stallion, where his mistress went he dutifully followed but that didn't mean he had to like where they went. He'd never been on a boat before, the new and strange experience tempered him something that Charlotte was grateful for.

~oOo~

**Sunset**

The desert sands twisted about her as she rode. The stallions taught muscles quivering beneath her and both woman and beast tried to escape the suffocating sand. She felt like she was drowning in grit, it plastered he mouth like sandpaper and irritated her eyes and unbidden tears streamed down her face. No matter how hard she rode, how frantic the both of them were for survival there was no escaping it. Terrified her breath came in sort gasps but she only inhaled more of the choking sand.

"Help!" Her voice was strangled and pitiful even to her muffled ears.

Sand rose high around them and both horse and rider took their last sand filled breaths.

"Help..."

A hand grasped her own failing one and pulled her to the surface. She was met with a pair of dark brown eyes, the face of her saviour covered by black cloth.

"WAKE UP!"

Charlotte woke with a start tumbling out of the cot onto the floor with a thump. Angrily her eyes snapped to her brothers, but before she could shout her indignation at being woken so weapons were shoved into her hands.

"The boats under attack, we need to get out of here, I need to get Evie...you get Jonathan." Rick was gone in a flash, launching himself out of the door to her room. Great she was stuck with Jonathan.

Carefully she strapped on her arsenal and grabbed her pack, you never knew exactly when you'd be bailing ship. She ran a hand through her hair, musing it, taking a deep shuddering breath. Time to save herself a Carnahan.

Opening the door she almost wanted to shut herself back in again. She had no qualms about fighting to stay alive but she wasn't up for a massacre and bullets were flying in every direction. There was no certainty in the origin of the bullets, it could be the enemy which she had no idea what they looked like or even Rick, who did have a tendency to fire every which way. Ducking she sped through the narrow hall until she bounced against the outer railing. Pistol smoke curled in the air while bright flashes and thundering bangs travelled throughout the confined spaces.

She could hear braying from the stables, but the horses were safe for now, or at least as safe as they could be. The fighting was focused father away from the stables at this point but she would be hyper aware of its positioning from this point onward. It was unfortunate but if it came to Jonathan or Ameer and the other horses, Jonathan was out of luck. She hardly knew him anyway and Ameer was practically family, admittedly of the four legged kind.

With a sigh and a concerned glance back towards the stables Charlie forced her legs to move in the opposite direction to that which her heart wanted her to go. After all her brother did technically owe him a debt, or at least owed his sister and hence owed him. With the stealth and grace of a cat she slinked her way to the bow of the ship and easily spotted Jonathan hiding behind a table with, if the cowboy shootout action was anything to go on, a bunch of fellow Americans. Perfect.

"Jonathan!" Her shout had a bullet flying in her direction and she ducked as it splintered the wood above her.

"O'Connell!"

The warning came to her and she flipped the man behind her, slamming him onto the deck. He wasn't down for long though and quickly grabbed a flaming piece of wood...wait fire. Ducking as the brand swung at her face she kicked out catching the black robed man in the shins. There was a gasp of pain but he man refused to timber. Hissing she drew her scimitar, it glinted in the light of the fire. Although she could not see the mans face his expression was clear through his eye and he shouted at her in Arabic too fast for her to catch the words. She shouted at her again and then his mouth popped into an O of surprise as he fell dead before her.

"There is not place for a woman in battle ma'am." The American shouted across to her and she send a dagger glare at them as the fire caught on a trail of lamp oil. The deck lit up with a violent raw. She was now separated from her Carnahan and painfully aware the fire was spreading towards the stables and Ameer.

"Jonathan jump." Terrified the Englishman looked at her with wide eyes, then to the dark churning waters below him and back. His head shook but with a mock aim of her revolver he leapt into the darkness with a muffled splash. One Carnahan down, Rick dealing with the other and time to save her prince.

Uncaring of the still flying bullets and the choking smoke that brought images of her sand ridden dream to mind Charlotte sprinted over the heated wood. The horses were panicking, she could feel the thumping of stomping feet through the boards, a panicking horse was a danger to itself and she hoped to what ever deity was watching over her that she wasn't to late. She'd never forgive herself or her brother for dragging her into this treasure hunt if she lost her prince.

She rounded the corner with the agility of a cheetah and met a solid wall of black. Her scimitar still in hand she faced him, her eyes weary and worriedly glancing towards the stables. Both were unwilling to attack, both sending sharp glances towards the terrified braying.

"Truce."

"Truce." The man nodded his agreement and they dragged the stable doors ajar. Without even waiting to see what he would do she darted past him and used her scimitar to slash at the ropes restraining the frantic beasts. Their eyes were wild and their mouths frothed with terror. As soon as they were free they horses galloped from the stables until all but one were left. Charlotte reached Ameer at the same time as her temporary ally. Their hands brushed as they tried to grasp the rope to cut it and her breath caught as a large tremor had her tumbling into the robed man.

Pushing the distraction aside she sheared the rope, grasping the free end like she had when she first rescued the silver hued colt and she ran. She sent a furtive glance at the man running beside her and was struck with a sense of familiarity, those eyes...

There was a large bang followed by a wave of heat and she launched herself off of the decking splashing into the water at a wall of flames blasted over head. Two more splashes followed her own and she surfaced to see Ameer struggling against the mans grip. Their eyes connected again and there was a moment, hardly a breath where the world seemed to still about her. But then it was gone and the man with it. Ameer rushed towards her and on reaching him she guided them both to the bank her mind still in tempest over that moment she'd experienced. She knew him...in her heart.

~oOo~

**I want to say a big thank you for all the reviews they are all really nice and I do really appreciate them. Its good to know what you think of the story and it helps to keep my motivation up. I hope you like this chapter, I was going to do the whole scene with the arrival on the bank but I thought it seemed suited to end the chapter here. So thanks again and please enjoy. **


	5. Chapter 5

If there was one thing that Charlotte liked less the Rick almost getting himself killed for the umpteenth time, it was being socked through to the very skin. When Rick finally found her she'd been squelched into a equally wet hug, it was not a comfortable feeling. She certainly held not love for it.

"Charlie-"

"Oh for gods sake Rick I'm goddamn fine!" The frosty glare could have frozen him to the bone but he only chuckled, clapped her on the shoulder and moved ahead to the front of the group. Leading them into trouble no doubt.

Charlotte didn't mean to be a downer, at least no more of a downer than the rest of the soaked entourage already were, but her mind was still swimming in the clouded waters. That man, she could have swore she'd seen him before. Or felt his presence in the least. She felt like she knew him, knew him so deep in her soul that even death wouldn't stop her from remembering him. If was something she'd never felt for anyone else. Ever.

"You are fine." A quick as an asp she struck, the paper thin blade pressed against the vile creature throat.

"What did you say?!" Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it held the weight of the world. "Listen to me you vile..." she looked down with a smirk "...little man, you who would have taken pleasure from my bothers death. You touch him, or any of us and I will slit you from navel to nose." Charlotte pulled away playing with the knife, her fingertips making it dance from one hand to the other. " Of course I'll make sure to miss anything vital...who knows in this desert you might bake to death before you bleed out, and that isn't even going into the bugs."

"I hate bugs." His horror was almost as palpable as his stench.

"Oi Charlie...directions." She turned on the spot sending the wretched man a deathly stare full of the promises of dark and deadly things...and bugs.

With the steps of a swift she glanced over the sand towards her brother, a small chuckled escaping her lips. Evidently Cairo had definitely changed her from the once little girl with pigtails and frilly socks. Being an orphan could do that to a girl.

Rick was crouched on the peak of a small dune, not much of a vantage point but you took what you could get. As she made to climb up behind him a nudge almost sent her sprawling in the sand.

"Ameer, what is it?" Her stunning prince whinnied, nudged her again before swinging his vast head to the left.

As of yet their party of bedraggled adventurers had stuck close to the river. Despite the fact they were indeed on the right side of it unlike the American four, they had stopped much earlier down the river than Rick had. As a consequence Rick had made the decision to follow the river until his previous landing point had been reached. This would have been fine if they weren't soaked to the bone in a rapidly cooling desert. That very thought left her supressing a shudder to which Ameer pressed into her side. Eyes the colour of melted chocolate scanned the company. They were all miserable, even the fat pig. Charlotte felt pity streak through her at the sight of the woman, Evy. Despite the jacket she'd lent her the woman's body with fraught with shivers, and it was no wonder as the thin material of her nightgown clung to her legs. Her brother was whining, something she'd come to the conclusion he often did, about the chill on the air and the chaffing of his wet trousers. Delightful stuff. Even Ameer, as strong as he was, was shivering with the combined nights exertion and the cooling temperature.

"I agree my prince, we need rest...somewhere to dry off in the least." Charlotte let her eyes stray to the stars as she lay a hand against Ameers silvery coat ceasing his shivering muscles. Stars were the map that was ever present, the map you could never lose in some hole ridden pocket. A map that could never be stolen, or burnt or forgotten. They were ever present. The guiding hand of the gods.

Rick was right in his assumption that they weren't far from their destination. But what good would that do them. They would still be tired and wet and downtrodden.

Her eyes scanned the dark and that was when she noticed it. It cut through the sand as though it was water, and for a sand winder that could be a most accurate description. Cold blooded it should not be out on the chilling sand and yet it was. So set on its destination it paid the strangers to this land no mind. How odd. Quickly she followed, Ameer trotting dutifully behind her like a colt. That's when she saw it, a glint of light, hardly more than a sliver, nestled between dunes to escape the chill of the wind. It was a village, one of the temporary sort. She let her eyes stray to the stars once more and they sparkled with thanks. Perhaps the gods were on their side...it would be a first.

"Ameer, keep Evy company. I will stay warm." The silver stallion gave her a look that clearly said liar, but he did what he was bidden and trotted over to the friend of his mistress. Charlotte, in the mean time, clambered up the small dune towards her brother.

"Rick, there is a village not to far. We should stop there." He turned to her and his expression was stern.

"We can't afford to stop, that maggot will beat up...he won't make a fool of me again."

"Rick..." Charlotte laid a hand on his forearm "...Benji will get his, but we need to rest." He searched the horizon, clearly intent on ignoring her advice so she traversed another route. "Evy needs to rest, and despite the fact that you probably enjoy her current attire I'm sure she doesn't agree." He eyes turned sharply to the woman in question who was now leaning into the vast stallions side, if a bit cautiously. Charlotte smirked as Ricks eyes softened slightly. Got ya.

"Fine, which way?" Still smirked she pointed out the direction, thank god for the powers of a woman over a man.

Her mind flashed back to the mysterious man back on the barge. As quickly as the thought came it faded but the frown that had settled on Charlottes face did not.

~oOo~

That mission had been a complete failure, and yet he still could not see it as such. He'd seen her again, the woman with the silver stallion.

It should have been easy, easy to remove those who sort the city of the dead and the treasures that lay hidden in its depths. But things had a way of turning out as they shouldn't. The fire...that had been a big mistake. Despite the contempt he felt for those who would, in the ignorance, seek to release a terror on the world he would never let harm come to the creature he and his men so depended on.

Horses were sacred to the Medjai, and they were to be treated as such. Others, Arabs that too sort the treasures of the desert and more unsavoury things would eat the meat of their horses. But no matter the struggle, the hunger, a Medjai would never stoop to such levels. It was not their way.

He had though the foreigners much the same as the Arabs that roamed the desert, without morals or honour. He'd never expected the woman, that woman to be there. He should of killed her, she'd put in her lot with the raiders of the tombs but his hand was stayed. In the very moment he reached for his scimitar, the moment he sought to end her life his heart clenched. He felt as though to end her life would be to deny himself something. What it was he could not fathom but it had saved her life and perhaps his own.

She'd suggested a truce, something he hadn't expected from a foreign woman, and he'd quickly eyed his options. She too carried a scimitar, he could easily over power he, she was only a slight thing. But that might take too long, the braying was panicked and a panicked horse could easily do more harm to himself.

The words had left his lips without through, 'truce', there could be no other solution. In tandem they had dragged the door aside, and without a pause for though the woman had dashed into the smoke. He'd followed just as quickly and while freeing the terrified horses kept an eye on her. A truce didn't mean he had to save her should she fall into trouble but he would not leave her to burn alive on this pyre.

They had reached the silver horse her knew to be her own in the same moment, and even though she tumbled into him the rope had been sheared. He could still feel the frailty of her body in that moment, so small was she, so slight that with the most merger pressure he would certain that he could cause her harm.

Within moments they had been running for their very lives. As the icy water engulfed them he tore his way to surface. He would not see her die now, not when she intrigued him so.

He had scanned the water for her and their eyes had connected over the turmoil. He would find her again, he could feel it. With her safety ensured he'd made his way to shore. His mind had been a tempest. All his life he'd blamed the foreigners for the folly, their need to claim the desert treasures as their own with no though, no respect for the dead. The curse was known to them and yet still they sort the glint of a lost world. But would he have believed the rumours had he not lived all his life with the curse hovering over his head. No perhaps he would not have. He had focused his anger on them because they were something tangible. But he should have been angry at the ones who'd cursed him with this duty. Never to rest for fear the creature would be set free on the earth.

He hoped that perhaps they would see their mission as a failed one, but as he followed them through the night he knew that not to be so. He watched as the miserable group trod they way towards certain doom, whether that be at the sharp edge of a scimitar or at the hands of the creature he could not foresee.

As he watched his eyes inadvertently strayed to the woman. Miserable as she appear she still struck with the speed of a snake as the fat man approached her. His intentions were obviously dishonourable and despite the control she exhibited his hand still strayed to one of his own blades. His reactions were confusing him. He knew her not and yet he found himself wanting to see live. Her death would sadden him, he felt as though his very soul should crack at the loss of her life.

Perhaps his brothers were right, he should find himself a woman. Becoming chief so young had left him no time to truly be a young man. But as of yet none had caught his interest, as a young chief there were many who tried but he found himself tired of their attempts. They fought for nought but their station. They knew not the hardships of the life he led, the battles, the loses that weight heavily on him. He was barely holding on his own and they would fracture under its weight. How was he to explain that the loss of any life, no matter its origin still cut into him. How could place that weight, the horrors of his fears on another's shoulders.

His eyes strayed back to the company, they were headed for a traders village. The people were kind, they would make it. His heart stung, he wanted them to live and yet he did not want to see them in Hamunaptra. Should they make it, it was he that would be their doom for the creature could not rise.

Pushing himself to his feet he let the woman fade from his thoughts, he could not dwell on her lest his hand be stayed again for his sentiments.

Carefully he moved back into the night, his robes flickering about him as the darkness consumed him. Fully unaware of the brown orbs that were focused in his directions.

~oOo~

**Well I hope that wasn't too bad of a chapter...next up is Hamunaptra. Thanks to all the review and follows and faves. You lot are actually epic!**


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